


In Which Q meets R

by chrystal896



Series: The Wonderful World of R [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BAMF Q, BAMF R, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possibly Crack-ish, Slow Build, Very AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 08:21:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1975833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrystal896/pseuds/chrystal896
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q is forced to hire an assistant. The 00s are intrigued. The minions are overjoyed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first time posting a fanfiction - please be kind! Important things to note: I'm operating without a beta at the moment, American English is my primary language so any misuse of British words/concepts/ideas is completely accidental and I will fix problems if someone tells me. I have no idea where the hell this came from or where it's going so please bear with me!

“What do you mean, assistant?”

Q leveled a glared across his desk at a thoroughly unrepentant Moneypenny.

“Assistant. Someone to assist. Capable of performing menial tasks that would otherwise drive you insane,” Eve deadpanned, staring unblinkingly back at Q.

“Yes, I know what the definition of assistant is, thank you.” 

“Good. Then she’ll be here on Monday.”

At that indignity, Q actually sat up in outrage. “If M is going to force me to get an assistant than I’m bloody well going to find one on my own.”

“He’s not forcing you. It was merely a strongly worded suggestion in an official memo. I don’t think he liked the way you were multi-tasking during that last department head meeting.”

Q folded his arms and leaned back in his chair with a distinct sulk painted across his face. “I was paying attention.”

Staring at him, Eve finally huffed out a laugh. “Q, you showed up looking like you’d been powdered in charcoal and clutching three new prototype weapons. I thought Psych was going to pull you then and there. Especially when you started cackling at the tablet.”

“It wasn’t charcoal. It wasn’t even gunpowder. And there was no cackling. Despite what the technicians claim, I am not their evil overlord.”

Eve glanced over at the white board that graced one wall of the main floor below and raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow. 

“The Care and Feeding of Minions.” 

The flinch given by the young Quartermaster when she read the poster out loud was almost as entertaining as the fact that several heads automatically looked up when they’d heard the word “minion.”

“Please don’t encourage them.” He muttered, rubbing his hand over his face. “I’m having a hard enough time convincing the rest of MI6 that I’m not planning a hostile takeover.”

“That’s what you get for being good at your job. Now, just imagine how much better you’ll be if you have an assistant.” 

She couldn’t resist digging in again. Since taking over Q-Branch, the young Quartermaster had practically been living in the bowels of MI6. First, it was the entire Skyfall incident. Then, it was merely getting overwhelmed with the bureaucratic nonsense that came along with running your own department.

“Maybe you’d actually be able to eat lunch.” She stated, eying Q’s form. “I swear, I could break you in half, you’re so skinny.”

Having heard many comments throughout the years about his slim figure, Q merely flipped her off and picked up a tablet. 

“I’m assuming there are candidates for this position?” He asked pointedly, calling up a program.

Eve pulled out her own tablet and flicked a data package up onto Q’s main screen. 

“These candidates already have the necessary background checks in place. Select the ones you want to interview and I’ll have them here in the morning. I’ve been ordered to inform you that should you NOT choose at least two candidates to interview, M’s going to let me select for you and they’ll start on Monday.”

With that parting threat, Eve smiled sweetly and left the Quartermaster staring balefully at the 12 names displayed on his screen. Flicking through them one by one, he started muttering to himself. “No. No. Hell no. Possible. Not even remotely. I’m not entirely sure this one even knows how to email.” He continued sorting through the names with a melancholy air.

Q would be the first to admit that he frequently took on more than he could handle. After all, that’s how he ended up as Q in the first place. Not many people took on the MI6 firewalls and lived to tell the tale. But it was the only way to make sure that things were done properly. No one else could do what he did and it was just so much simpler to do it himself rather than try to explain to someone else how to complete a task.

He absolutely did not need someone else coming in to muck with his way of life. Q glanced at the door through which Moneypenny had just exited and let out a sigh. Her threat was certainly not idle. While he was certain that she could come up with someone adequate, he just didn’t trust anyone else to make the decision.

“Damn.” He muttered. Of course, Eve would know that. She’d manipulated him perfectly. That’s what he got for working in espionage. Any concepts of free will he’d had were shattered the minute he received his first ID badge. Plans within plans; plots within plots. Everyone did it as naturally as breathing. Particularly if you lived long enough to receive 00 status. 

It took until after lunch – a lunch he’d spent countering yet another attack on the firewall – for him to narrow down his choices to three. Two women, one man. All under 30 years old. The first woman had a computer engineering degree with a focus in laser targeting systems. She’d be coming fresh out of Cambridge, but at least she wouldn’t have many bad habits to unlearn. The second woman had a harder look about her, but her CV was impeccable and seemed extremely efficient. The third, the man, was an unusual case. He was another former Cambridge student, with a degree in mechanical engineering. Impeccable test scores and his dissertation well thought out. He’d had interests in robotics, ballistics, and foreign languages of all things.

However, unlike the first woman, he’d had a career in the MOD. The man had received training to be a bloody field agent albeit with MI5. Staring at the profile, Q saw a lean, wiry looking man with spiky black hair. His eyes were a brilliant green and his mouth seemed frozen in an easy grin. He certainly fit the profile for a field agent. 

Q didn’t play off hunches. He liked data and knowledge. He could find no fault in the man’s CV, or in his personnel file that he’d hacked without feeling the slightest bit guilty. If it weren’t for the fact that he’d had such excellent scores in computers and robotics, Q wouldn’t have chosen him. The last thing he needed was an agent hanging around that wouldn’t leave. Agent 007 was bad enough. Nothing short of threats of bodily harm would get that agent out of his office and sometimes that didn’t even work. 

Sending his choices to Eve, Q settled back to work on some coding, letting the troublesome business of assistants be buried under ones and zeroes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Q tries to outwit Moneypenny and Bond gets dragged into it.

In response to his list, Eve sent him her own list - of questions to ask. As he was perusing such inane questions as “Where do you see yourself in five years?” wondering if people still asked questions like that, 007’s voice sounded in his ear. 

“Tell me about an instance of disagreement you had with your coworker and how you resolved the situation?”

Managing not to jump out of his skin – barely, Q spun his chair around to see Bond with a look of amusement on his face.

“They told me to go to hell so I shot them.” Bond added smugly. “Looking for a new job already, Q?”

Q huffed and turned back around. “Aren’t you supposed to be on assignment?”

“Just got back. I’ve brought you a present.”

“Unless it’s your Walther in one working piece, I don’t want it.” Q snipped, closing the questionnaire.

“You’re half right.” 

Several pieces thunked on the table behind him. Q didn’t even bother turning around. He’d grown tired of trying to convince Bond that his equipment actually needed to be returned. Bond, if nothing else, was consistent in that regard.

“So why the questionnaire?” Bond persisted, half sitting on the edge of Q’s desk. 

“If you must know, I’m supposed to be hiring an assistant,” Q muttered, ignoring both the man and the gun in favor of a tricky part of the code he’d been working on earlier.

A chuckle drifted from above him and Q rolled his eyes. 

“I’m sure the minions will enjoy somebody new to play with since you never leave this office,” Bond seemed thoroughly amused by this prospect.

“They are not my minions. Do I need to schedule another harassment seminar, 007?”

“I’m sure I’ll be out of town whenever you do.”

At this, Q snorted and shoved back to look up one of the deadliest agents of Her Majesty’s secret service. 

“Imagine you had someone following you around all day asking if you needed tea or constantly hiding your gun in new and inventive places, 007.”

Bond patted him on the shoulder sympathetically, “I’m sure you’ll survive the experience, Q.”

Suddenly, Q perked up and his expression turned evil. Bond eyed him warily.

“Moneypenny said I had to choose three candidates to interview. Not that I had to hire one. She also never specified who would be doing the interview process.” 

At this, his gaze turned unsettling on Bond.

“You owe me.”

“Pardon?” 

“You. Owe. Me.” Q jabbed his finger at the mutilated gun on the table. “That is the third gun I’ve issued you this month. If you don’t want to go out on your next mission with a plastic spoon, you are going to interview these candidates.”

Despite Q’s fierce demeanor, Bond could sense the undercurrent of desperation. Everyone in the building knew that Q had undiagnosed OCD and the thought of having someone sharing his workspace must seriously be rattling him.

“And what exactly do you want me to say to them? I don’t know a damn thing about coding or Q-Branch.”

Q handed him a comm. “Next question? Or are you just going to accept that this is your current mission.”

“Somehow, I don’t think this would be sanctioned by M.” Bond said drolly, dropping the earwig into his pocket.

“Because I’ve never done anything contrary to M’s orders before.” Q scoffed, returning his gaze to the computer. “These are the candidates and their CV’s. Your first interview is at 0800 tomorrow morning.”

Shaking his head, Bond stood up and wandered toward the door. For once, he didn’t need to go to medical, voluntary or otherwise. As far as Q’s threat, Bond actually had killed someone with a spoon before, so it wasn’t much of a threat. But interrogation and interviewing were essentially the same, minus a few drops of blood and it’d been a while since he’d gotten to exercise that particular set of skills.

“Oh and Bond?” Q called without looking up, “Make sure you sufficiently terrorize them. If I have to actually hire one, I’m blaming you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The candidates meet Bond. Moneypenny approves.

The first interviewee left in tears. Q promised Bond a new exploding keyring. As this one was the faintly militaristic woman who seemed highly efficient but fairly uncompromising, Q wasn’t all that sorry to see her go. 

When the gorgeous brunette entered the room, Q hissed a quick “Down, boy,” in his ear. Bond, as usual, ignored him. When this one left, she was upset as well, but Bond had managed to charm number off her and clearly had designs on consoling her. Q couldn’t figure out whether to make him a new ring concealing a garroting wire or to tell him off for flirting with the enemy. He decided on both.

And then there was one. This one called himself Michael Arons. His MOD files listed another name, but since Moneypenny had said they’d already been screened, Q didn’t bother pointing out the error to Bond. Let him figure out the real name if he could. 

“What the hell is Bond doing?” Moneypenny hissed in his ear as Q watched Bond stand up and introduce himself to “Michael.”

“He’s conducting interviews,” Q replied absently, turning up the volume slightly so that Moneypenny could hear. He’d seen her coming on the video feeds, but he couldn’t be arsed to care that she looked pissed.

“Isn’t that your candidate?” She asked pointedly. Q just shrugged.

“Technically, he’s one of the ones you selected first. You never specified who was to interview them. If they can’t stand up to Bond, than they are no use to me. The other two crumbled like paper.”

In the interview room, Bond prepared himself to smile charmingly at the next applicant. He’d rapidly come to the conclusion that interrogating terrorists was far more entertaining than interviewing civilians. He much preferred screams to tears.

“Good Morning, Mr. Arons. My name is James Carmichael.” 

“Michael, please. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Carmichael.” The boy replied shaking the hand Bond offered with a quick, firm grip. Bond refused to think of anyone who looked even remotely like Q as anything other than boy, despite knowing full well the man before him was almost 30.

“Why don’t we start off by having you tell a little about yourself, if you would?” Bond started smoothly, offering up his most innocent smile. Despite the things he had done, Bond could still pull off looking innocent. It was a useful look to have when something exploded.

The younger man seemed to be buying it.

“Like my CV says, I’m from London. I graduated from Cambridge in 2003 with advanced degrees in mechanical engineering and computer programming. After a brief stint working in a lab, I joined the MOD and received Field Agent training. Didn’t prove to be my cup of tea so shortly thereafter, I was transferred to their Defense Intelligence Agency where I currently work.”

All of this Bond already knew but it was a nice change of pace from Danielle who had stammered her way through her CV while nearly spilling her drink down the front of – a rather pretty blouse, to be honest. 

When Bond failed to respond but just smiled politely at him, the boy tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. 

“Was there anything else you would like to know? I’m afraid I can’t give out the details of most my work. It’s possible your clearance level isn’t high enough,” the boy added doubtfully, eyeing the man across the table from him.

“Oh, I shouldn’t worry about that. You mentioned you were a field agent.” Bond smiled blandly at that boy and watched his eyes narrow.

“For a short while yes. I preferred being behind the scenes, though. And if it’s all the same to you, I think we should switch topics now. You may not have to worry about security clearance, but it’s my head that’s on the block if anything I say shows up on twitter.”

The easy going grin was still there but it was underlined with a current of steel that Bond could appreciate. Nodding slightly, he picked up the man’s CV and pretended to scan it while Q fed a question through earpiece.

“Without revealing too many state secrets, perhaps you detail some of the computer work you’ve completed for the MOD. This position is rather computer intensive and we want to make sure that whomever we hire is thoroughly competent.” He asked smoothly, laying the paper back down on the table.

With a relieved smile the boy launched into a long litany of words that Bond couldn’t be bothered to parse the meaning of and he hoped to hell that Q understood what was happening. His training meant he was exceptionally good at pretending to be interested in his targets, and he casually offered the responses that Q fed him. 

Eventually, the conversation bled out and Q murmured something along the lines of “At least he knows code,” which in Q-Speak was practically a flaming endorsement. So far, this candidate had made it further than any of the others.

“Do you any other questions?” He asked smoothly as the interview slowly wound to its conclusion. 

They had already covered most of the basics. Bond had tried to rattle him, tried to charm him, before finally settling on slightly flirtatious banter that the boy had surprisingly matched him at, so he was surprised when the boy -Michael cocked his head and eyed him with a more serious expression. 

“Who exactly is on the other end?”

“Pardon?” Bond asked, feigning ignorance.

Michael gestured toward his ear. 

“The earpiece. You’ve been listening to someone this entire time. I was just curious who else was interviewing me.”

Bond could hear Moneypenny snickering over the line before calling out, “Oh, I like this one, Q.”

“That’s really none of your concern at the moment.” Bond said coolly, stacking his papers. “Perhaps you could enlighten me as to why someone with your qualifications wants to be a technician. 

Michael grinned. “Because it’s Q-Branch. Everyone knows that’s where the fun stuff hides. It has to be more entertaining than designing better accounting software. Have to start somewhere.”

Pursing his lips, Bond really couldn’t help but agree. When he stood up, Michael followed suit. Before Bond could dismiss him, the door opened and Moneypenny sauntered into the room. 

“Thank you, Mr. Carmichael, that will be all,” she said dismissively, flashing him a smirk as he stalked past her, loosening his tie. That was the last time he played mild-mannered office worker. He could feel the boy’s eyes following him out the room.

“Mr. Arons, welcome to MI6. My name is Miss Moneypenny. If you’ll come with me, we’ll go over some further details before heading up to HR. Will you be alright to start Monday?”

Tearing his gaze from Bond’s admittedly nice backside, Michael flashed this newcomer a warm smile and shook her hand.

“Were you the voice in the ear?” He asked, tilting his head. 

She smiled secretively, “One of them. You’ll meet the other soon enough.”

“You want me to start that quickly?” He asked, rather surprised. When the previous applicant had come out in tears, Michael had feared the worst.

“Mostly it’s a matter of transfer and upgrading your security clearance since you are already an employee. There are some particulars that Mr. Carmichael was not aware of that we need to cover once you’ve signed your nondisclosure agreement and officially accepted the position.”

That …sounded rather ominous to Michael. “I thought this was a position for a technician,” he asked carefully following Moneypenny through a maze of modern corridors.

“Of a sort,” she responded absently leading him through a massive set of double doors. Michael suddenly had doubts.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q discovers the true nature of R's presence in the department and R has had enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought that the concept of R was interesting and very undeveloped. I always imagined R as a very capable person so I thought I'd write down my version of R and his experiences in Q- Branch and MI6. Enjoy!
> 
> Reviews are much appreciated!

Collapsing on his couch, Michael stared at the ceiling blankly. The particulars had been numerous. Like an idiot, he’d signed the dotted line before finding them out. If his solicitor father were still alive, he’d probably kill him for that.

After signing a flurry of paperwork, Miss Monepenny had smiled at him sweetly and escorted him to another set of doors. This one led directly into M’s office. There, he’d been politely welcomed to the MI6 family, warned precisely what would happen should he ever think of betraying the crown, and then handed a list of his new duties. 

Apparently, he wasn’t a technician after all. He was Q’s bloody assistant. No wonder they’d wanted to know about his coding skills. While fetching tea was apparently one of the many duties he’d have to perform, his unofficial job was to learn everything about Q-branch so that he could become Q’s second-in-command. That meant his clearance level had skyrocketed. His paygrade had received a boost as well. It’s a fair bet they knew he’d tried to hack into their databases before out of boredom, but they’d been polite enough to overlook it. No wonder he’d gotten the call to interview.

Thinking back on the interview, his mind invariably drifted to Carmichael. Or whatever the hell his name was. The man was charming, he had to give him that. The line of questioning had been well done and for some reason reminded him of the interrogation training he’d received over at MI5. The flirting was a bonus. Oh, he doubted it meant anything. Men like that flirted like breathing, but it still made for a fun interview. Michael could swing either way, so it didn’t bother him in the slightest when Bond had begun to shamelessly flirt halfway through the interview.

It had been one hell of a day, he decided. A day where he hadn’t even met the mysterious Quartermaster that he was supposed to “assist.” It was a fair bet that he’d been the other one on the commlink though; Carmichael hadn’t seemed like the computer type. The questions he asked had been too specific for it to be anyone else. 

He’d been ordered to hand in whatever documentation he’d had on his person, right down to his NHS card before being informed that new aliases would be created and that as far as modern world was concerned, Michael Arons no longer existed. To be fair, Michael Arons hadn’t been in existence that long anyway, but when he’d pointed that out, Moneypenny had all put patted him on the head.

“Sweetie, there’s nothing you’ve done that we don’t know about,” she’d said patronizingly, and oddly enough, he believed her. 

“Have a good night, R.” She’d said as she escorted him to the front door. “We’ll work on the particulars of your new flat on Monday.”

In the space of five hours he’d lost his name, his former job, his flat, and the illusion that he was flying under the radar.

Monday was going to be interesting.

~~~~~~

R had to admit, it would have been nice if the job came with a chauffeur. As it was, he crammed into the Tube along with everyone else, barely having enough time to grab a bagel from a nearby stand before ducking into the rather imposing doors of MI6. The ID badge he’d been given on Friday got him through the security checkpoint but after that he had no bloody clue where he was going.

Realizing he recognized no one in sight, he wandered over to the information desk. Showing her his badge, he was handed a packet, along with a note of apology from Miss Moneypenny. Taking the lift indicated, he headed to what he assumed was Q-Branch. He dug out a new passport, NHS card, birth certificate and instructions to memorize the background of that particular alias. That was easy enough, he thought, flicking through the pages rapidly.

The doors opened in brightly lit hallways filled with a familiar low hum of servers. The chill was also familiar. Striding down the hallway, he found himself stepping into utter chaos.

“You’re other left, 004.” He heard someone say snippily as he moved over to stand by the wall and out of the way. He’d managed to find Moneypenny, and M, and someone who could only be Q standing imperiously at a touchscreen table throwing up dialog boxes left and right. There were four of them clustered together in a loft that overlooked the main work area. Cranning his neck, R could see a doorway at the back of the loft that most likely led to Q’s office.

“Yes, that way. Hold on a moment. Let me get the door lock. For God’s sake, 004, you can’t kick down a metal door with industrial grade locks.”

Q was still firing off directives at a rapid pace and R could only watch in amazement. He suddenly felt like he’d stepped right off into the deep end without any notion how to swim.

“Are you lost?”

R turned at the sound of a voice at his elbow. A man wearing a blue polo was staring at him with suspicion. He opened up his mouth to answer but never managed to utter a syllable.

“He’s with me.” A cool voice drawled and the man turned his glare to his shoulder. 

“No, I’m with them.” R amended, pointing up at the loft and raising an eyebrow at his former interviewer.  
“007, get up here.” Moneypenny called down. “You too, R.”

“You’re a 00?” He muttered as the man followed him up the stairs. There was no response from behind him, but there didn’t really need to be. The behavior during the interview actually made sense now. If anyone would know how to push buttons it would be a 00. 

“Is it always standard practice to be interviewed by a 00?” R whispered as he came to stand next to Moneypenny. She just shot him a bland smile which was matched by 007 on her other side. 

“Objective achieved. Headed out to rendezvous point. ETA 15 minutes.” A voice called out over the comms and R watched Q tap out a quick series of commands.

“Acknowledged, 004. The evac team will be waiting.” Q switched the comms off and continued to tap furiously into the keyboard.

“The data 004 retrieved should help us trace that last terrorist cell in Macau. I’ll get it analyzed and a report to you as soon as possible after 004 checks in. It would have been better if he hadn’t fried the rest of equipment. As it is, I’ll have to wait until he returns the hardrive in person.” Q shot the screen a dark look and R felt briefly sorry for 004.

“Thank you, Q.” M nodded before turning to head down the stairs.

“Good morning, R. Bond.” He threw over his shoulder as he made his way out of Q-Branch followed by an older slightly heavy-set man. Moneypenny grinned at R.

“Looks like you found the place, alright. Welcome to Q-Branch. It’s not normally this crazy around here. You just happened to walk in on an op gone wrong.”

“It wouldn’t have gone wrong if 004 had followed objective parameters in the first place.” Q groused, finally turning around to glare accusingly at R and 007. 

“He got the job done, didn’t he?” Bond asked mildly. “Isn’t that what counts?” He leaned against the railing, back to the main floor below. 

“You would say that. Who cares that he just lost thousands of pounds worth of equipment and destroyed several buildings in the process.”

Sensing an old argument restarting, R tuned them out to continue surveying the workspace. His fingers itched to get at the computers. 

Moneypenny interrupted Q before he could too far along in his rant against 00s and their serious disregard for personal safety, by laying a hand on his arm. “Aren’t you going to greet your newest minion?” She inquired, nodding toward R.

“He’s not my minion. He’s an assistant. An assistant you forced me to hire.” 

R kept his face blank but couldn’t help but feel a bit of a sting at that. It was apparently going to take a lot of work to get on Q’s good side.

The sound of a smack drew his mind back to the present and he saw Q clutching his arm staring wide-eyed at Moneypenny. “Remember, Q. R is now your second-in-command.”

Clearly this was news to Q. 

“You told me I was getting an assistant.” He hissed, throwing a glare over at R.

“M decided to kill two birds with one stone. By elevating R to your second in command, he ensured that the pit could always be covered. Should something incapacitate you, R will be able to cover any pending missions. His clearance level will also allow him to take over some of the duties that prevented you from finishing up the work you wanted to do in the first place and allow us to advance our tech even faster.”

As Moneypenny stared him down, Q whirled to face Bond. “Spoons, Bond. Spoons.”

R blinked at that. Whatever code that was apparently made sense to Bond because he straightened up with sharp movement and sent his own glare at Q. 

“You asked me to interview them and I did. It’s hardly my fault that you picked someone who was familiar with interrogation techniques.”

A sheepish grin crossed R’s face. Apparently Carmi- Bond. Bond had noticed the way he’d been answering the questions. No wonder he’d been reminded of MI5.

As Bond, Q, and Moneypenny continued to bicker, R began to get annoyed. Who the hell cared why he’d been hired, the point was he was bloody well standing right there! Dropping his messenger bag to the floor with a thump, he crossed his arms defiantly.

“Right then,” his voice cracked out across the loft and even some of the minions below – who had been studiously ignoring the brewing fight- looked up in surprise.

Three heads whipped around to stare at him, two glaring accusingly and one appearing faintly amused. R filed a mental note that Bond liked winding people up as he was clearly the only one still smiling. Must be a 00 thing, he thought briefly before leveling his own glare at Moneypenny and Q.

“Like it or not, Q, I’ve signed on the dotted line. M made my job description very clear. You don’t like it, take it up with him. So Miss Moneypenny lied to you. You work in espionage, you’ll get over it.”

“I get it,” he continued as Q opened his mouth. “You don’t want me here. To be fair, you haven’t even spoken to me yet, so I don’t see where you get off thinking that I can’t actually help you.”

Q’s mouth closed with a click and Bond laughed outright. “For once, I agree with you Moneypenny. This one we’re keeping.”

“Now, since we’ve established I’m not leaving until M fires me or executes me, whichever comes first, why doesn’t someone actually start being helpful and at least show me where the lounge is so I can get some bloody tea into you people.” R gestured toward the white coffee mug on the table that he’d noticed was empty. 

“Clearly you’ve all been here a while and maybe more tea will get you three to calm the fuck down.”

While he knew he was worth more than a waiter, at the moment he’d take it if they’d just stop arguing. Moneypenny had made it clear that tea was a highly stylized ritual in Q-Branch and R figured he might as well start small.

Maybe if he could survive the day, he might actually get a chance to show Q just how useful he could be.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R tries to settle in and finally gets to help out on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always welcomed!

Needless to say, R’s first day had not gone well. Between the bickering upon his arrival, the cold shoulder reception from Q and the rest of Q-Branch, the only happy part of his day had come when he’d finally gotten to go home.

Or at least, that’s what he’d thought until he was handed a scrap of paper and a key by Moneypenny. 

“Your new flat,” she’d said distractedly, typing on her phone one-handedly. “Your personal effects have already been moved. Please keep your movements discreet while outside of Q branch, R. Remember, to the rest of the world Michael Arons is dead.”

Moneypenny wasn’t lying. He’d seen the obituary. Apparently, he’d died in a car crash on the M4. What he had been doing in a car on the M4, nobody knew. But there it was, he was officially dead.

When he’d finally managed to locate his flat, he realized that not only did he need a key, but the door had biometric scanner on it. At least he didn’t have to worry about anyone breaking into this flat, unlike his last place.

R wandered around his home, examining cupboards and staring up idly at the lofted ceilings. It was, admittedly, much nicer than his previous flat and he didn’t have to pay for it, which was a bonus. He made another mental note to sweep the place for bugs as soon as possible. One day in MI6 had already alerted him to the fact that everyone in the building had an unhealthy sense of paranoia and apparently no issues with lack of privacy.

Something seemed off and he finally realized – they’d replaced all his furniture. While it was a little thing, his couch had finally been worn in to the point where it was comfortable. Flopping onto the new brown leather couch, he wrinkled his nose in distaste. It was all wrong. 

Wriggling his shoes, he stretched out and sighed. Today had not gone as he’d expected. In truth, he didn’t know what he expected. Clearly, the minions – and he had no doubt in his mind that’s what they were – took exception to the fact that there was someone new who would be harassing their overlord.

One day there and he was already violating rule #1 of the minion code: Do not disturb the Overlord or suffer the wrath of the minions.

Oh sure, he had an office, located underneath the loft. It even had everything from his old cubicle that had been shipped over especially. Because that wasn’t creepy at all. Personal boundaries. They really didn’t exist.

After getting the tea for the terrible three, he’d been shown the office and Q had dropped a stack of procedural manuals on his desk before disappearing. “Read them, memorize them, use them,” he’d snapped before heading back upstairs. He’d heard Bond and Q murmuring overhead before both Bond and Moneypenny had disappeared, the former with a smirk on his face and the latter casting a sympathetic look at him before disappearing through the doorway.

That had been the rest of the morning. There were procedures for everything. From how to evacuate in case of a bomb threat to what to do should an unknown chemical compound escape from R&D. He’d read them and then flipped on his monitor to see what he could access. That occupied a significant portion of the day and the unholy glee on his face might have been partially responsible for the space the minions had given him.

During lunch, he’d managed to grab a cigarette in the garage, but the guards had glared at him until he went back inside. Somewhere in the bloody building there had to be a place he could smoke in peace.

He’d checked on Q once, but the glare he’d received had given him frostbite, and he quickly retreated back downstairs. Q still hadn’t forgiven him for being more than an assistant and R didn’t feel like pushing his luck after reprimanding him this morning. He did make sure Q’s cup remained full of tea. That softened up the minions slightly; they approved of people taking care of their overlord. One of them had even said good bye as he’d left. So. Progress.

~~~~~

The next day was more of the same. And the next. He got caught up on all the current mission files available to him, and some that weren’t. He then started flipping through the previous missions to get a sense of how the agents functioned and how they interacted with Q Branch. 

All the 00 agents were friendly with Q to a point, only because he supplied them with weapons. He’d watched 004 come back with the hard drive and receive a blistering reprimand for not returning all of his equipment. That seemed to be SOP for the 00s. Mostly, the 00s ignored the minions, and vice versa. The minions tended to scatter when one came on the floor, probably out of self preservation. They even had separate lounges. Hidden underneath the loft kept R out of the way for the most part, and the 00s only glanced at him before moving on. He was just another minion to them. Bond would at least nod at him.

It was five weeks into the job before he participated in a mission. He’d been present for two others, watching, but not touching per strict orders when a panicked 006 came on over the comms. 

His mission had gone balls up from the start and by this point was running damage control. As it happened, 003 was also running a mission at the same time and had encountered problems of his own. Q had done an admirable job of switching back and forth between the two, but he was becoming increasingly frustrated.

“What can I do,” R asked sliding up beside. Because Q was so distracted, he’d barely even blinked before rattling off a series of commands which had R nodding in confirmation. 

“003, this is R. I have the blueprints pulled up, give me your current location,” he uttered into the earpiece he’d slipped in as he’d turned away from Q. He could hear Q shift his full attention to 006 and gave a tiny grin of satisfaction. Q would probably yell at him later, but for now, at least he got to help.

“Who the hell is R?”

“The one with the blueprints. Location, please.” A round of gunfire rocked through his earpiece and all of a sudden 003 was more cooperative. 

“Southwest corner of the building in the basement. Right by the stairs. I need to get to the main office.”

Typing rapidly, he hacked into the camera system and found his agent. 

“Right, I see you. Go up two flights and make an immediate left out the door.” 

“The office is right above me,” the agent growled before firing off another round down the hallway.

“How much ammo do you have left?” R asked instead, flipping through the cameras.

“One magazine and one round in the chamber.”

“Then you want to go up two flights of stairs and make an immediate left,” he repeated patiently. “The floor above you is crawling with guards, you wouldn’t make it through. Go one floor up and you can drop out the window on to the balcony below.”

003 looked up at the camera briefly before turning and flying up the stairs. Pulling up another screen, R went to work hacking into the fire suppression system.

A thump a few moments later signaled the arrival of 003 at the office and there was another burst of gunfire. “Target eliminated, retrieving data.”

“Acknowledged 003. I’ve got your exit route.”

“Data retrieved.” The agent held up a flash drive to the security camera and turned to head out the window.

“Not the window, 003,” R commanded quietly, flipping on the sprinklers. “There is a patrol right underneath you. Go out the door, gunman on your right at 1 o’clock. Turn right and go to the stairs you were on earlier and get up to the roof.”

This time, the agent did as he asked without question and R watched the guard go down with satisfaction. 

“Where do I go after the roof?” 

“The roofs are close enough together you can halfway to the extraction point before ever touching ground. Head southeast on the roofs for about a kilometre. Your contact is waiting on the corner of 8th and 57th with your ticket home.

“Thanks, R.” 

“My pleasure, 003. Radio if Q-branch can offer any more assistance.”

Tracking the dot that was 003, R followed him to make sure that he actually reached the extraction point and gave a small sigh of relief when he finally made it.

R glanced over to see Q staring at him and R blinked innocently. “003 has successfully completed his mission and will be returning in approximately 3 hours.”

With a bland smile, he handed back the headset to a silent Q and trotted downstairs to write up his portion of the after action report fully aware that Q was still watching him. See? He could be useful.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R wins over the minions once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me as we embark on this crazy journey! As always, reviews are much loved. And in case anyone has doubts, this world isn't mine, I just play in it. I own nothing but the thoughts that come out of my head and trickle down through my fingertips.

Apparently, helping to successfully run a mission did wonders to thaw out the hearts of the minions. Even Q mellowed slightly after that, allowing R to start filling out the forms that had been piling up so that Q could continue to monitor the department as he should have been in the first place.

The first day Q actually put down a circuit board and ate the lunch that R had set beside him, the minions brought him a cupcake. Minion Dave even shared with him that there were several places on the roof that one could go to smoke if he felt like hiding from the cameras.

R figured that getting the minions to like him was half the battle. He learned how easily the minions could turn vicious the day Q had a head cold and an angry 001 had stormed onto the floor.

“Where the hell is Q,” he snarled, hauling a minion up off the ground. The minion, to his credit, didn’t squeak even though he was currently dangling about a foot off the ground. Some of the 00s were particularly volatile and 001 was the worst when it came to tempers.

It wasn’t until he looked up that 001 realized he’d been hemmed in by about 20 minions all staring at him coldly.

R, who had been watching from the loft, leaned against the railing with a small smile. 

“Good morning, 001. How may Q-Branch be of service?”

“You can tell me where that runt of a Quartermaster is hiding.” 

To his credit, 001 didn’t squeak either, when all 20 minions hissed angrily in his direction including the one still in his grip.

“Is there a problem?” R asked mildly as he straightened up and headed toward the stairs.

“Someone’s been hacking into the scoreboards on the firing range and changing all the names of all the 00s.”

“You think it’s someone from Q-Branch, I take it,” R stated calmly. “You are perhaps unhappy with your name?” he continued as he sat on the top stair. “And for Christ’s sake, will you put Toby down?”

001 looked up at the minion in surprise, before dropping him on his feet again.

“Thank you,” the calm voice drifted from overhead. “Now, scoreboards.” R looked down at 001 impassively. “You wouldn’t by any chance have threatened to switch out the coffee for decaf after Q berated you for failing to return your gun and earwig, did you?”

He arched an eyebrow as 001 started looking shifty. 

“And did you in fact, actually change the machines to run decaf in the Q-Lounge?”

At this, 001 folded his arms defiantly. “You can’t prove anything.”

“I don’t have to prove anything,” R said calmly. “I just have to change the scoreboard to reflect that you are now Patsy McFluffypants. And if the caffeine is not replaced, you might just find your next set of documents reflecting it as well.”

“Why you little – “ 001 was brought up short by the challenging glare in R’s eyes – as well as a solid wall of minions.

“Oh, I’ll change the scoreboard back the way it was, McBride. But you might not be happy when I do. If I were you, I’d look to see who has held the top range scores for the last three weeks. If I’m not mistaken, you barely made it in the top ten,” R added icily.

“If I were you,” he continued, “I’d work more on my aim and less on antagonizing people who can cause far more damage than just changing a name on a scoreboard.”

“What the hell is going on here?” Q suddenly demanded, making his presence known by leaning over the railing to stare at 001. He glanced back and forth between 001 and R – who were in an intense staring match and then to the minions in between.

“001, don’t you have somewhere better to be?” The agent in question altered his gaze to stare up at the quartermaster in anger.

“It’s nothing, Q.” R interjected, with an innocent look. “001 just had a question about a computer glitch he was having. I think we’ve gotten it straightened out, don’t you?” He turned to 001 and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

If there was any justice in the world, the glare that 001 sent his way should have cut R in half. Luckily for R, there was a series of memos sent regularly from M’s office about inter-office cooperation and how the 00s and Q-Branch minions were specifically barred from permanently injuring one another.

The clenching in his jaw promised severe retribution, but 001 eventually spun on his heel and stalked to the exit, scattering the minions in his wake.

“…R…please don’t antagonize the 00s,” Q said tiredly, rubbing his eyes. “That’s my job.” 

R fired off a mock salute and then glanced pointedly at Q’s office. “The only reason you are still at work today is that you told Moneypenny that you wouldn’t leave your office.” With a flick of his wrist his MI6 issued phone was in his hands and he’d snapped a picture. 

“Don’t make me send this,” he threatened with an easy grin. “You may not listen to me yet, but I have a feeling you’ll listen to her.”

Q smirked through his exhaustion. “I can ensure that picture never leaves Q-branch and you know it.”

With eyebrows raised, R let his face show his amusement. 

“One day, when you’re feeling better, I just might take you up on that challenge. Right now, Jasmine is going to get you more tea and then you are going to go back to your office and look at those requisition forms that R&D wanted three days ago.”

Far too much of a professional to make a face at R, but not enough of one to not have the last word even as he retreated, “ You’re always after me to delegate, consider them yours.”

With a roll of his eyes, R turned back around to find every Q-branch minion staring at him.

“Uh…yes?”

“You have saved Q’s life, we are eternally grateful.”

R facepalmed with a groan. “From now on, you are not allowed to watch Netflix during your lunch break, Steve.”

Minion Steve just grinned. “You took on a 00 for me, Chief. What’d you expect?”

“So it was you. I had wondered,” R said bounding down the stairs. “And I’m not a Chief.”

“Face it,” another minion, Darla, piped up. “You have officially become the Chief Minion.”

“Fix the leaderboards, Steve. And if you change my name to Chief R on it, you’ll never be able to touch a computer again without it blowing up on you,” R replied mildly settling back down at his desk and pulling up the aforementioned reports.

“Sure thing, Chief.”

It was a close thing, but R just barely managed from letting his head thunk down on the desk.

He amended his despairing thoughts when a minion brought him lunch an hour later. Apparently, he really had won over the minions. And even Q had finally started warming up to him. Now, he just needed to win over the 00s and life would be good.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of Q meets R! In where he takes on a 00 and manages not to die in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of In Which Q Meets R! Thank you to those who have bothered to read this far. I have many more ideas for other additions to The Wonderful World of R so by all means, keep on reading. As always, reviews/comments are welcome and I sadly do not own anything James Bond related besides what resides in my movie collection.

Little did R know, but talk was already circulating about him within the ranks of the 00s. 007 was oddly silent in the matter, content to sit back and watch as 001, 003 and 009 compared notes in the lounge they’d claimed for their own. It was rare for two, much less four 00s to be in town at the same time and they were taking that rare opportunity to catch up.

“He’s a smug, arrogant little bastard,” 001 – Ewan McBride said nastily, staring moodily into his cup of coffee.

“That might be true, but he’s damned useful in a tight corner,” Mark Andrews countered. 003 had been on the receiving end of that useful help and he felt an odd spark of loyalty. 

“Not as useful as Q. Skimmings rarely are as useful as the original,” McBride snarked leaning back in his chair.

“You’re just upset he’s beaten you on the range,” Bond said mildly. “And wasn’t it you who was railing against Q not five months ago?”

At that, Vivienne Marstars perked up. “How good a shot is he?” she asked, cleaning her fingernails with a wicked looking thin blade. The gorgeous redhead a fiery temper but 009 was very, very good at her job and almost had Bond beat in number of seductions. Not that they counted.

“Good enough to be #3 on the leaderboards for the last four weeks,” Bond said blandly, not taking his eyes off of McBride. The 00 had been something of a loose cannon the last two weeks, going stir crazy from not having a mission.

“Is he cute?” Marstars asked, the knife disappearing in a flash. “I haven’t done nerdy in a while. He might be worth my time.”

McBride snorted, but Andrews looked thoughtful. “He doesn’t actually look like a geek. If I swung that way, I’d go for it.”

Vivienne all but purred. “I just might have to make my way down to Q-Branch sometime today. Welcome him to the family as it were,” the smile she sent Bond was positively sinful, but having already sampled that particular dish, Bond wasn’t eager for a repeat. He also wasn’t keen on having her anywhere near R. The thought made him twitch but he suppressed it, realizing that he had in no way laid claim to the second-in-command.

A trip to Q-Branch wasn’t necessary as the man in question stalked into the room not five minutes later after the four of them had started up an impromptu poker game. 

“Oh good, Bond. Have you seen Milo?”

Bond stared at him blankly. “Who the hell is Milo?”

“I’ll take that as a no. Short, tubby, thick black frames, supposed to be carrying a laptop for you?” He pressed, cocking his head slightly.

All he got for his questioning was a raised eyebrow.

“You must be R, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Vivienne purred from beside him and Bond resisted the impulse to clench his teeth.

R looked intrigued. “Really? From who? If it’s him, it’s probably a lie,” he finished, flipping McBride off with an easy grin.

“Why the hell would one of your minions be bringing me a laptop?” Bond interjected, trying to stave off both a bloody confrontation between R and McBride and hopefully deterring Viv.

“Can we get back to the game,” McBride snarled to no one in particular which was good as everyone was ignoring him.

“We needed to test out its destructibility and according to Q, you’re the most destructive of the lot,” R replied absently, moving to stand behind McBride. Bond felt a sudden surge of foreboding.

“I’d fold if I were you,” he said cheerfully after eying McBride’s cards. 

And there it was.

001 was out of his seat before the sentence had even finished leaving R’s mouth, and Bond less than half a second after that.

He could hear Vivienne in the background, “Oh for god’s sake, boys. Let’s play nice,” Even as he latched on to the arm McBride had drawn back for a punch. R was at least smart enough to be already moving, ducking behind Bond as McBride turned with a snarl. 

What followed was a short intense brawl in the middle of the 00 lounge which ended up with a bloody nose, three broken fingers, and multiple bruises. Oddly enough, the lounge had seen worse.

R leaned against the wall next to Vivienne as Bond and McBride fought for the upper hand, watching as the table and chips went flying.

“McBride is wound. He needs to loosen up,” R said conversationally.

“If you’d stop bloody antagonizing him, this wouldn’t be a problem,” Bond called out, grunting as McBride’s elbow connected with his solar plexus.

“He still hasn’t replaced the caffeine in Q-Branch that he stole.” R retorted, picking up a chip and running it through his fingers.

“This is about caffeine?” Vivienne looked at him like he was insane.

By this time, Andrews had joined in and they finally pinned McBride against the wall. 

“Walk it off, McBride.” Bond said lowly, leveling an icy stare. “M won’t take kindly to you killing a member of Q-Branch no matter how irritating he might be.” Though Bond didn’t move his eyes, R had the distinct impression he was in trouble. 

“Seriously though. You pissed off a 00 because he stole your caffeine?” Vivienne shook her head at his apparent stupidity.

R eyed her with a small amount of disdain. “No. Because he fucked with Q-Branch and thought he could get away with it. We may call each other minions but we’ll be damned if we get treated like them. Not even by 00s.” 

Calmly walking up to where McBride was still struggling against Bond and Andrews, R stopped and stared into furious brown eyes.

“Either we can continue until one or both of us end up in medical and or dead or we come to a truce. I leave you alone and you leave Q-Branch alone.”

“Bond’s not going to be around to protect you every time.”

“That is sad, but true. He’s bloody good at it. Despite what everyone in this room thinks, I don’t actually have a death wish. But it was a rather effective way to get you to stay in one place long enough without attempting to kill me so that you’d actually listen.”

At that, Bond finally turned his head and stared at R. As did Andrews, and Vivienne.

“There really is laptop that needs field testing. However, Milo isn’t even at work today,” R nodded at the hallway. “I saw you all come in here through the cameras.”

“Hello, 001. My name is R,” he added and McBride stared at him blankly.

“What are you playing at?”

“We were never actually introduced. Our first introduction involved you attacking one of my minions and I’m afraid that set us off to a bad start. I don’t take kindly to anyone fucking with those in my division, as I’m sure you can understand. And while I don’t expect you’ll trust me, do remember that it’s entirely possible I may be responsible for your safety while in the field one of these days. If you can’t work with me now, how the hell are you going to trust me when your life is actually on the line?”

R was staring intensely at McBride and Bond could feel the muscles underneath his fingers relax marginally.

Vivienne raised a manicured eyebrow and snickered quietly. “He’s got you there, McBride.”

McBride opened his mouth to speak, but R cut him off quickly. “Don’t answer that yet. Give it some thought. Remember all the times you’ve relied on Q to get you in and out spots and think long and hard if you’ll be able to do the same with me. Give me time to earn your trust and I’ll do the same for you, yes?”

With that final note, he patted Bond on the arm and flashed him a grin. “I think you can let him go now. It would be bad form if he killed me now. Besides, there are too many witnesses.”

Giving a friendly nod towards Vivienne and Andrews, R wandered out of the staff room looking for all the world like he hadn’t just nearly been killed by one of the elite of her Majesty’s Secret Service. Bond released his grasp on McBride and Andrews did the same, all four of them staring at the doorway R had just left through.

“That kid’s got balls of steel,” Andrews grinned at Bond before arching an eyebrow at McBride. “You attacked a minion?”

McBride at least had the nerve to look slightly guilty. “I might have grabbed one.”

Vivienne rolled her eyes and flipped the table back over. “Seriously, you are such a child, McBride. If you don’t get control of that temper, M is going to pull you one of these days. He might anyway if he finds out you’ve been pissing off Q-Branch. And for the record, the rest of us WANT to stay in their good graces. They give us the pretty toys and tend to keep us alive.”

When Bond and Andrews nodded in agreement, McBride grumbled but finally sat down in a huff. “Are we going to play poker or not?” Sensing that no one in Q-Branch was going to be in any danger any time soon, the play resumed, the conversation still focused on the newest member of Q-Branch. Word would spread quickly of R’s nerve and over the course of the next month, most of the 00s managed to find their way down to Q-Branch to introduce themselves. Meanwhile, Bond watched and waited. He had an infinite amount of patience and for some reason; he felt that R would be worth the wait. As long as he could keep Vivienne away from him.

Unaware that the attitude of the 00s had shifted from indifference well into grudging admiration for his nerve if nothing else, R reappeared on the main floor of Q-Branch.

“Where have you been?” Q asked suspiciously, coming to the rail. 

“Oh just ironing out a little wrinkle. You know, the 00s aren’t as bad as you all make them out to be,” R said absently heading toward his desk. “They can be perfectly reasonable.”

“What did I tell you about antagonizing 00s?”

“I believe the word was – don’t - .” R said flippantly, pulling up a code he’d been working on earlier.

Throwing one more suspicious look down towards R, Q went back to his console, content in the knowledge that all was right in MI6. R grinned to himself as he heard the footsteps overhead. 

He just might have the hang of this job after all.


End file.
